Dean looked to Sammy with a sarcastic stare.

Sammy had no answer.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Dean asked.

"That's Dean. I'm Sam," Sammy said, pointing in small gestures.

"Bullshit," Max declared.

"No, we swear," Sam pleaded. He didn't understand why she didn't believe them. Did he have to show her their licenses?

"Why'd you give her your gun, you idiot?" Dean asked Sam.

"Stop talking and tell me the truth!" Max demanded.

Dean's eyes widened in anger. "Dean. Winchester."

"Show me your barcode," Max ordered.

"My what?"

"Your barcode!"

"Free to a good home, sweetheart," he said, again with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye. He took this split second of her distraction to check her out. With loose hair from her long braid falling against her temples with the breeze, he could think only that her hair would frame her perfectly no matter if it was up or down. It drew attention to her face, which he already thought was filled with a different kind of beauty.

"Very funny, pretty boy," Max started. "Turn around."

Sam took a step forward and she jerked her body toward him, lining the gun up with his stomach. Sam threw his hands up, too.

Max turned her attention back to Dean, who did as instructed and turned around. Max noticed this guy's hair did nothing to obstruct a barcode. Particularly because there wasn't one.

Max lowered the rifle. "Okay, you can turn around."

Dean looked over his shoulder. "O-kay," he said. When she handed the rifle back to Sam, Dean continued. "What the hell was that all about?"

Max softened. "I thought you were someone else."

Dean looked to Sam again, semi-worried. He mumbled, "the shape shifter's dead, so I don't know…"

Max folded her arms. "How old are you?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "None of your business."

"'Bout thirty-five?" Max guessed.

Dean gave her a look to suggest she stop asking.

"Did you go missing when you were about ten?"

"No," Dean said, looking at her like she was nuts.

Max knew he was lying. She caught Dean looking over to Sam and somehow understood not to continue her line of questioning.

"My mistake," she said with a sweet smile. Turning back to Dean, she continued. "Thanks for the assistance."

Max turned to face Krit and Zack. Zack gave her an incredulous look, and managed not-so-under-his-breath-ly, "We had it under control without them."

Dean looked at the makeshift army. Sam hadn't picked up on it yet, but Dean saw that some of them had been bitten – probably days ago – and hadn't changed. He eyed Max suspiciously. When she caught him, he gave her a look which suggested they needed to talk.

"Hey Zack, see if anyone needs medical. I gotta make a run to the hospital for some gauze and some tubes."

Dean watched as Max tended to her people.

"Dude, who are these people?" Sam asked suddenly.

As Zack walked away, Dean caught sight of something on his neck – some series of black lines. "They're just like us, Sammy. Soldiers."

Dean turned to head back to the impala. Sam followed close behind.

"But did you see the way they moved?" Sam persisted as Dean opened the trunk. Sam returned the rifle to its rightful position.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, playing dumb.

"Their movements are quick and tight. They're professionals…" Sam trailed, trying to find the right words. "It's almost as if they're-"

"Military?" Dean asked, closing the trunk.

Sam straightened. "Well, yeah."

"Yeah, I thought so, too. I'm gonna see if I can ride along with the chick and get more info. Think you can handle it by yourself for a while?"

Sam looked around and returned a hesitant look to Dean.

"What?"

"You're ditching me to go get laid?"

"No, I just think if I go with her, I can find out more about what's going on here."

"You mean besides the Croatoan invasion?"

"Yeah, besides that."

Sam huffed and looked over to Max. Dean followed his gaze.

"Krit, you got a vehicle nearby I can borrow?" Max asked.

Krit shook his head.

"I can't get supplies back on the Ninja and I'm almost out of gas anyway."

"Zack's talking about rolling into that town ten miles up and holing up at the motel. Plenty of space, locking doors, vending machines. Town's deserted."

"Sounds good," Max said.

Dean found his opportunity into the conversation. "I got a car; I'll go with you to the hospital. And that town is deserted – that's where we came from. Killed most of them."

"Most of them?" Max asked, turning her attention back to him. He wasn't Manticore, he wasn't who she thought he was – but he wasn't just a normal guy. Neither was his brother.

"Some of them were already dead." Dean folded his arms. For some reason unbeknownst to him, her expression seemed softer than it should have been.

Max looked back to Zack. "We'll meet you back."

"Max!" Zack called, throwing her an empty backpack. She let it hang from her hand. "Be careful."

Dean led the way to the car and they both climbed in.

"Sweet ride," Max said, situating the backpack at the floorboard as Dean started the engine and twisted the volume knob, quieting the rock and roll music.

The Impala headed through the battlefield and up the hill from whence it came.

"So I kinda got the feeling you wanted to talk to me," Max started, trying to catch Dean's eyes. He stared forward at the road.

"Max, right?"

"Yeah."

"How long you been fighting?"

Max sat back against the cool seat and watched his eyes as they darted to different spots in the road. Eventually they spent a couple seconds on her, waiting for her response.

"Seems like my whole life." She found herself wondering if he knew about Manticore, but wanting to hide it from him nonetheless.

"Yeah? Me, too." Dean glanced at one of the quickly-fading scars on her collarbone. "Kinda runs in the family."

"Military brats?" Max asked, trying to draw on her not-so-obviously-Manticore speaking points.

Dean took a deep breath. "Something like that." He paused a moment and rolled to a stop at a light.

Max looked around. Not another moving, living thing on the way so far. "Why are we stopped?"

Dean pointed to the light with a smile. "Red light."

For no apparent reason, she appreciated his willingness to follow the laws in a weird situation like Croatoan fight. Because Alec would have, probably. Probably just to get a rise out of her.

Max felt the air in the car heat up a little, remembering Alec. Remembering Alec and remembering Ben.

Dean flashed the half-smile again, but instead of the usual blush followed by a shy or sweet return smile, the woman across from him looked down at her hands, then out the window.

The light flashed green and they continued through the town in silence. Two minutes passed before either spoke again.

"You're wondering how I knew about your abduction," she finally said.

"The question had occurred to me." Dean adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

Max bit her lip. There was no way she could sum up hers and Alec's relationship in the span of a car ride. He had been much more to her than she ever thought he could be. And here she was, sitting next to his probable DNA donor. "I, uh, knew someone. Someone who looked like you. Except younger."

Dean thought about the shape shifter. Unless they'd caught on ten years early, he'd never seen a shifter shape into a younger version of its host. Couldn't have been that. So why didn't he just admit what was floating around in his head, trying to make its way to his throat?

"And you're thinking about…?" Max trailed.

So he took a chance. "Shape shifters."

Dean was shocked that she wasn't even remotely surprised by what he just said. She must be a hunter, too.

Max shrugged. Naturally, he knew about all of this crap going on in the world. Of course. But he was still just human. Right?

Dean pulled over at the entrance to the hospital, trying to slide through the abandoned cars and avoid running over the bodies on the ground. He cut the engine and turned to Max.

"I wasn't ten," Dean said, matter-of-factly. He looked to Max to try to read her expression. "I was eight."